Black night and...

I go into the black air.
Night's on the move,
patience in its foliage,
shifting
its great space,
round,
perforated with stars.
what feathers is it wrapped in ?
Or is it naked ?
It falls on metallic
mountains
covering them with the salt
of hard stars.
Blood.
One by one,
every single mountain
goes out,
goes out under wings,
goes under its black handwork.
At the same time
we are 
black mud
discarded
puppets
who sleep
or
murder
without being, day clothes thrown 
aside,
gold spears, tasselled hat,
life with its streets and numbers,
there it all stays,
a heap of poor pride,
a hive without sound,
only sound of guns,
kills,
oh, night, open night,
mouth, boat, bottle
police, cars,
not just time and shadow,
bodies in sacks,
not just tiredness,
something breaks in,
gunshot,
fills up like a cup,
dark red milk,
blod,
black salt,
and falls
into 
its well,
hate,
a destiny,
TV cameras,
all that exist burns up,
the smoke
goes looking for space to stretch 
out the night,
but
from tomorrow's
ash
and we will think,
hope for better times...